L'Opera de Sydney
by furysflame666
Summary: You are a vampire. You've lived for a century. You can write about one thing that has happened in those long one hundred years. What would it be?
1. Chapter 1

Yes. Another story. I know I can't write one story for very long without going to another one. Readers of my other stories, I'm sorry; please don't throw pots or sharp objects at me. Enjoy, everyone. :)

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You are a vampire. You've lived a century. You can write about one thing that has happened in those one hundred years. Would you record your creation and you mortal life, how you were stolen away by the beastie in a fairytale, to become an immortal, haunting the earth?

I find that boring. It has been done. There are plenty of chronicles describing every situation and scenario in which a young mortal can be taken. If it was so traumatic, why the hell are you telling it again?

I allow myself to record one thing each century I live. Some spectacular adventure better than all others. Decided simply as a way to get rid of the brooding I experience. More than one, and I might never lift my pen from the page. How frightful.

You know, it can get lonely as a vampire. We are solitary creatures, left alone from the moment we're born. That is, if your creator doesn't stick to you like a mosquito. But that's a different matter. I look forward to this experience, this writing, in hopes my suicide will come a decade or two later than expected.

Boredom kills, you see.

Living forever is an arduous task; after awhile, you've done everything that's worth doing. A couple hundred years, and I'm _lucky_ to get one thing to write about. Which takes me away from my uncharacteristic tangent and back to my topic of choice.

Do you wonder what I will describe for you, out of my long, unending life? I hope so, otherwise pick up another damn vampire story and get the _fuck_ away from mine.

My apologies. Did I frighten you?

It is a rather shameful occurrence, that which I'll pen for you tonight. For no immortal would pride themselves on being bested by a human. Yes, mine is the only (decent) tale of a vampire, defeated by the human heart. I could do nothing.

It was 1983.

Didn't expect a modern date, did you? I've lived too long to bother myself with the past. Besides, beforehand, I had never cared for mortals and never cared for love. I lived alone, away, too, from the kind that rejects its young to drown or float.

I was in London on a whim. I had wandered all over Europe, searching for something that would attach me to the decade. Vampires have trouble accepting everything they understand, the fashion, the technology, the _people_, die, becoming soil for the new era to come. As if idleness wasn't enough to put a blade to your own throat.

I wandered the backstreets searching for quiet. The cities were overcrowded and even the alleyways were choked with homeless. Their tears and pleadings annoyed me. Superfluous sound. I longed for silence. One simple wretch grabbed y wrist as I slithered through the alley. He thought I'd be easy picking.

"Fancy lad, how 'bout a bit of alms? Surely you can spare it, yeah?" His rotting nails dug into my flesh. No way he would let go.

"Leave while you can, sir. I have nothing for you." My voice was steady, unhurried. This must've puzzled him.

"How about a go then, huh? Unless you have somewhere to go." Other men had flanked us, blocking an exit I didn't care to use. "But I doubt it."

One man caught my other arm while the first lifted himself up. Snickers went through our small crowd, in anticipation for what was to come.

"He sure is a fine one, ain't he?"

"A beauty."

A kick to my midsection toppled me like an oak. I met the street without a sound or move of my own. The first man straddled me easily, my body dwarfed by his filthy frame. I stared up at him with an impatient expression.

"I thought the English were gentlemen. A boy is prey?" He was searching the pockets of my coat.

"Tell that to me empty stomach, lad." He was frustrated. What's wrong bugger, did you find nothing? "You dress pretty for having nothing on you. Come from a masquerade or something?"

Though my coat was near ancient, it still impressed them. My clothes, things I never cared to keep track of, must've been from at least two hundred years ago. I'm surprised they thought me an aristocrat.

"I have nothing for you. Go, before it is too late." Steady breathing. Clear threat.

"I'll be done with you before any cops show up. What's your hurry?" His hand traveled to my breeches. As if it was an afterthought, he smashed the bottle he had in his hand the entire time, and pointed the jagged end at me. "You're going nowhere."

An afterthought occurred to me, as well, "I also thought the English gentlemen could tell a man from a woman."

Ah, did I fail to mention?

I wore the garb of an eighteenth century nobleman, but what did it matter? Corsets were not to my liking.

A collective hush fell over my group. The man pulled down my coat, ripping the buttons clean off. It revealed a bulge that was not at all masculine. He smiled a crooked grin. "Even better," he growled.

The man used the bottle end to cut through the lace beneath my coat. It cut into my white skin, welling thick blood through the delicate layers.

"Ah, that's it." I said simply, snatching the man's wrist with even more vigor than he had mine, "I _do_ hate the taste of vagabonds, but I've warned you twice. I don't wait for the third."

I rose like the dead from the grave, the man peeling off me, stunned. I didn't have the patience to let him recover. I latched onto him, ignoring his screams; superfluous noise. The blood flowed hot, but sour with the lack of innocence his soul contained. As thrilling as the sensation was, the blood was thin, fleeting. In mere moments he was dead, empty as his life had been.

The others screamed, ran, but did not escape. Their thoughts pounded against my quickened heart, and they were dead all too quickly. Six of them. The blood was unfulfilling, serving only as a catalyst to my hunger.

I fed on those who challenged my presence, those who irritated me, and the arrogant who thought that they could take me to satisfy their carnal pleasure. Enemies to be disposed of; distractions to my wanderings.

In minutes I had left the alley behind me, caring not for who found their corpses. I was on the boulevard now, passing brightly painted humans who gave a double-take to my bloodied silk lace and torn coat. No one dared to wake me from my wistful, unfocused stare. They grew horrified, looked to their companion, and forgot once the strange boy had passed.

There was a café with outside seating and I took a chair under a quaint blue umbrella to catch my breath. As tasteless as those homeless men were, the swoon was all the same. Drunk on their souls, I hardly noticed the pretty little waitress that sidled up to help me, moments ago.

"Would you like a rag for that? Or would you like to call an ambulance?" Her voice tinkled like a bell. So deliciously pure. As glutted as I was, I could hardly resist running a hand up her tender throat. To kiss that vein…

I swallowed my yearning. A wave of my hand dismissed the notion. "Bring me a coffee. That's it." I looked up. Her face was unnerved; had my tone been that forceful? I strained a smile. "Please."

She scampered off and I put a hand to my forehead. A moral had scattered my thoughts, that's all. I was never good with people.

The drunkenness was gone. I could disappear into the night, which before seconds ago had been my every intention. But I did not.

Something kept me there. For years I had searched for a feeling as powerful as that girl had forced from me. She lit my soul on fire without even meaning to. And she wasn't afraid of me. At least, she was more fearful of losing her job than approaching me.

She was back quicker than I had expected and cautiously placed the mug in front of me. The skirt she wore hugged her thighs, a horribly revealing uniform she wore with near forced pride. Her laced blouse matched my own in formality, a stunning offset to her outfit. It provoked her curves, accentuating them, yet they were not showy at all. Other girls were skipping around inside the café, dressed just like her. She was exactly like her sisters, exactly like what was expected of this age, but why did she keep my attention?

"Ma'am? Will that be all?" I looked up, half-stunned. She knew I was a woman. How? Even my half open lace could not reveal much. I shook it off.

"Ah…yes." I stuffed a twenty into her hand, money the men miraculously could not find minutes before.

"Ma'am! You should have that looked at" She motioned to my chest, wounds already sealed. But how would she know? "If you need a change of clothes, too, ma'am, I think I have an extra-"

"Please. You're too generous." Was I sweating? My desire for this girl was choking me. I tried to get up from the chair, but I must've stumbled, because I felt the girl grip my forearm right after I got up. She was so close her breasts were pressed to me. Was she seeking death?! "I'll be fine; thank you." My breathing was heavy.

"But you gave me way too much, ma'am. At least let me get you new clothes." Her pleading voice…

Before I knew it, I was being led through the café, to the anxiety of the late-night diners.

The staff room was quiet and dark. My head stopped pounding enough to see that we were the only two there; the other men who happened to be there left, assuming something was wrong. She found a couch for me to rest on while she disappeared into another room for a few minutes. I presumed it was a locker area for their valuables, but I didn't really care. Mostly because I let a mortal lead me around like a lost puppy, caring for me like one of her own species.

Out she came holding a lump of colorful clothing. She held it out for me gingerly, as if I would attack her if she made a sudden move. Did I remind her of a lost pup that much?

I took the garb and it unrolled to reveal a bold green dress. I was confused; I hadn't worn women's clothing in at least a century. I was accustomed to flowing gowns with at least five layers of frills, buttons and lace. This was plain, lacking the pastel hue that I had learn to hate. I took it in my hands. The fabric was soft and stream-line, not at all like the itchy cloth of the 1700s. I did well to hide my amazement, stripping the torn coat at once. Though I had a feeling the girl had grown uncomfortable, I did not slow as the lace blouse was also peeled from my body.

"You don't have to-"

"No worries." I cut her off, dropping the shirt to the carpet, "We're women."

I had a small frame, even for this era of starving supermodels. Although my muscles had been toned from my mortal years on horseback, there was not much to my body beyond my porcelain skin. Beside me, I heard the girl emit a tiny gasp, too quiet for mortal ears. A sharp intake of breath, a shuffle of her step…

"You're so pale." She said in amazement, then caught herself, "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to stare. Forgive me." The girl turned her back in embarrassment.

I slipped the dress over my head and pulled it into place. Nonchalantly, I retrieved my clothes. A hand touched the girl's shoulder, letting her know it was all right to look. As she turned, her eyes grew wide, her hands going to her mouth in bewilderment.

"Gorgeous," she mouthed, smiling wide, "Absolutely gorgeous!"

I smiled back out of courtesy. My head tipped to thank her.

"My shift ends in an hour. If you want, I can take you for dinner and you can stay at my apartment."

I think my eyebrow shifted involuntarily. What an odd girl. But her voice was gentle, and the offer was pure. I nodded.

Her face lit up, and asked me to wait in the staff room until she finished working. I agreed, using the time for my own contemplations.

What a fine pickle in my jar. Whenever did I have the patience for humans and their concerns? It was strange, yet made sense to me at the same time. The couch was comfy. I lounged, contemplating when I would kill her. Would I? Her blood seemed utterly perfect, and yet, I hesitated. For the first time in my long years alone, I was quickened, alert. The world seemed open, new experiences flooding in like an unclouded river. I felt like I was alive, more so than even when I functioned on my own blood. Maybe it was the cocktail dress hugging so tightly it felt like my own skin, but I felt strangely released, free from the wanderings that had filled my life so completely for decades. Probably the dress.

Too soon did the girl return, jolting me out of my thoughts. She informed me that traffic had slowed and she wasn't needed for closing. I shrugged, accepting the change eagerly. My eyes shifted to the wall-mounted clock. It read quarter past one.

"Do you always have dinner this late?" I asked, as we walked out of the restaurant. She had shed her uniform for a less revealing v-cut blouse and dark leather jacket. She still wore the skirt, but at least her bust wasn't so unleashed.

"Do you always walked around with bloodstains on your Halloween costume?" She shot back. Her heels clicked on the pavement authoritatively. "It's March, by the way."

"I'm quite fond of them, actually. It gives the clothing character." As a matter of fact, my coat must've been covered in old blood, but I suppose time kills stains just as well as it does mortals.

There was a pause. She didn't know how to answer that, I'll bet. "I'm more tired than hungry, though." I lied, "I'd prefer if we went to you home, if you don't mind."

The girl looked up at me. She was about a half an inch shorter, I realized, even with the heels. "Alright. I'll fix something up when we get there. I hope you can deal with cup ramen."

We shared a laugh as we turned a corner. Not long until we reached the apartment complex, I expected. "And I grow stronger from it." I said gallantly, flexing a muscle and holding the bare skin. Huh. It was bare. I had to remember I wasn't in my coat anymore.

The girl smiled at me. It was a lovely grin, a lovely expression.

"Why did you decide to let a perfect stranger come home with you? I could be dangerous, you know." It was a question I had been wanting to ask since her offer came up.

"You? No, I doubt it. I could tell you didn't have anywhere to go, anyway, and you looked so good in that dress…" She realized what she was saying wasn't a thought and two seconds after she added, "I mean, you still do, I guess; but I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I-"

I held up my hand. "Relax. No harm in flattery." I held out my arm to a door we had come across. "Yours, right?"

She looked to where I motioned. "Oh, right." The girl fumbled with the keys, put one into the lock and the door slid open. "Sorry; I hardly noticed us going up the stairs."

Stairs? I looked down. Oh yes; stairs, stairs… I have to pay more attention to what I'm doing, I thought.

"You know…" I started.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"We've known each other for at least two hours, but we don't know each other's names."

"Oh, yeah." It dawned on her.

"Do you have one?" I half-laughed.

"Of course. My name's Sydney."

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What do you think? Review with your thoughts. Thanks for reading. :)


	2. Chapter 2

"Ma'am?" Her voice broke my thoughts.

I shook my head. How many times would I make myself vulnerable to this mortal? "You can stop calling me that; I'm probably younger than you are." She looks at me strangely. Damn; slip of the tongue. Sydney would have even more questions now.

"Would you like to come in? Or you could sleep outside, if you'd like." She disregarded my last statement, to my relief. The girl held the door open for me. I took the offer, switching the lights on. In she went, then disappeared, slipping into the kitchen. "Do you also have a name? And would you like some coffee or tea?"

"Water. Thank you." I went to the couch I found in the living area. It was a small apartment, but at least it had space for a bedroom and necessities. Lounging was beginning to be my favorite pastime.

"Sorry to be rude, but you seem to be avoiding my question." She stepping into the area and handed me my glass. In her hands was a microwavable meal. She sat in the armchair to my right. "Does it hurt you to say it?"

I stared at my glass. "No. Not at all. My mind was in another place." I looked up at her, enjoying what she could of her food, "It's embarrassing, but I haven't thought about my name for years."

Sydney was quiet, accepting. Maybe she was chewing.

"I guess you still want to know. I'm called Elodine."

"Such a beautiful name; I don't know why you would avoid it."

I shrugged. In a fit of courtesy, I took the finished tray (it was quite small for being called an entrée), and brought it to the kitchen. As I dumped it into the garbage, I heard her call from the other room.

"You're not English, are you? Your name sounds foreign."

"As does yours."

I had reentered the area, but did not sit down, waiting for a reply.

"American bastard, sorry. I'm here for a year; school." She looked around, finding my glass as full as I had received it. I could only hope she didn't give the matter too much thought.

"French." I replied, searching a reason to roam within the country, "Business."

"You're lying, Elodine." My name sounded light on her tongue. "Not about your origin; you're accent fits it, at least. But not only are you too young, even in the most extreme circumstances, you didn't look rich enough to travel when you approached the café. Those clothes must have been ten years old." She gave me a hard stare. "Or more."

My expression softened at her words. A sigh blew from my lips, but I didn't say anything.

"And you didn't have a scratch on you when you took off your coat, with all that blood. The color was too deep to have been someone else's, so you didn't kill someone. But care to explain these things?"

"Your questions hound me. Please." My hand went to my temple, as if it actually hurt. A mortal reflex. "You're very observant. I didn't expect you to-"

"That's why I'm studying abroad." Sydney smiled. It took the edge off her argument.

I sat on the couch again. "American ingenuity. I had heard of it, but never experienced."

"Avoiding the point again?"

"Are you studying law, dear Sydney?" I laughed, leaning back, "Because if not, you should consider it."

She said nothing. Stubborn waitress.

"What do you want me to say, my love? My business is mine just are yours is your own. My trust doesn't go out to strangers, unfortunately." Yeah. That sounds good enough.

"I'm not a stranger anymore, am I? I've offered you food, a place to sleep…" She seemed troubled. "What else could you need?"

"I'm grateful, yes. But I-"

"But you?" She stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair back, had it been light enough. The girl moved toward me. "Tell me."

I said nothing as she neared. It wasn't difficult to predict what she intended to do. However, with a quickness I didn't think her capable of, she grasped my face and brought hers close. Another moment had me pushed against the couch by my shoulders, Sydney already half on top of me.

I turned my head away from her longing eyes. "You can have my money, girl. This isn't necessary."

"I'm not a prostitute, you fool." She shot back, coming closer so I could feel her body heat well, "I like you."

Her lips crushed against mine and fire ignited within my body. The lust I felt at the café was reborn, twice as powerful with the girl's form on mine. What delicious, pure, innocent blood could flow from her… It was maddening. I allowed her to halt the kiss and look into my stern green eyes. Only a mask for the firestorm of passion I held back. Her chest moved heavily. The desire was clear in the husky breaths she took.

"My, your relationships move quickly."

Sydney's mouth was bombarding my neck with playful nips and kisses. Oh, poor girl. You don't know what you're dealing with. "I wouldn't, normally. I think it's the dress." She licked my earlobe. "It just drives me crazy."

"Ah, that makes sense." Swallow the desire. Bury it before it consumes you. "But if I had not trusted you with words, why would I let you toy at my unguarded body?"

I grasped her shoulders, wondering how much of my strength it would take to get her from me, but not break the fragile human in two. With care, I pushed her off, unseating myself as well, us both, then, standing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, head down. Sydney placed her hands on my shoulders, as if silently pleading for an embrace.

Somehow I was on the floor. The girl must've hooked her foot under mine and shoved me down. She was straddled atop me, hands on my arms. I needed to stop getting distracted by my own thoughts; look where it got me.

"I'm sorry, but you don't get a choice."

Despite her words, her face held conflicting emotions. Her morals fighting her passions? Sounded like the Devil's work; not my concern.

"Please don't do this." There was no rush in my voice, no change in my breathing. _Keep the passion subdued…_

"Don't scream. Please don't scream." Her hands worked at the straps at the dress. "It won't hurt. Just trust me with that." When the fabric got caught, she simply tore it down the middle. So much for her dress. She leaned down to my ear and whispered seductively, "I just see you and can't help myself. I don't want to force you, but I can't control it."

Her hands began to slide down my collarbone. "You don't want to try this." I warned.

Sydney's face met where her fingers left off. She breathed in sharply, fueling her lust all the more. "Yes, I want to."

She traced the curve of my breast, touching lightly so I would prickle with sensitivity. I remained focused on her, though my thirst wanted otherwise. "I apologize, as well."

Sydney stopped and looked back to my face, puzzled. Her eyes questioned, _why?_

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to kill you."

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Thoughts? Comments? Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

For a moment there was silence. Maybe she said something, but either way I didn't listen. I tossed her off me like a parcel and landed her on the coffee table I had barely missed in my descent. She must've cracked her back on the hard wood, but I no longer had proper control over what I was doing. I hovered over her in an instant, unconsciously baring my fang teeth.

"Don't scream, my darling, it won't hurt for long." I got a hold of her throat, grasping it tight, "Some even claim they enjoy the experience."

"Elodine, you can't do this! I trusted you; I haven't hurt you at all!" She was pleading now. Getting desperate, love?

I went to her neck, a vein plainly visible with her tense body. Her scent invaded my nostrils. Sweet, flowery. The innocence overwhelmed me.

"Do you know what I am, _chérie_? Do you realize what you have awakened, the creature that feels alive again?" No answer. I continued, "And this resurrected beast craves young blood."

More pleading. I couldn't hear it over the lust. All I knew was this hot, squirming body was beneath me, beautiful and tempting, holding back what I desired.

"How can you kill your savior, then?!" she cried. Sydney's voice rang out louder than ever. Did you realize I wasn't listening? My apologies. "I helped you because no one else would! No person deserves to be ignored! How can you do this!"

Memories. A woman flashed through my mind. Who was it? She had yellow hair, long and curly; truly beautiful. This woman was near a horse, a black mare, it seemed, near the rider, another woman. The blonde was an aristocrat, I could tell by her clothes, but her posture was not arrogant, not pompous in any way. She seemed loving.

My mother. It had been so long I had forgotten her. She was beautiful. The only one who decided to care for me; her voice tinkled like a bell when she spoke to me. Sydney cared? My mother cared, of that I was sure. But the girl beneath me had indeed treated me as my mother had, when my father and brothers would have nothing to do with me. The mortals of that era had killed me. Not only did Sydney pull me from my isolation, she pulled me from my own death. My grip loosened on her throat in my contemplations. The hunger that had been commanding me had grown strangely quiet. Yes, she cared.

Sydney had gathered me up and crushed my head against her bosom in an embrace.

"I'm here, Elodine. It's alright; I won't leave." Tears stained her blouse. How long had I been crying? More importantly, why did this girl not run and escape while she could?

I returned the embrace, unsure of what I should do. We sat together for the longest time, inseparable, it seemed. It felt calming, having her arms about me, protecting what she couldn't hope to understand. She was mortal. She couldn't protect me from my troubles. But a good hug once and awhile does feel nice.

"I'm sorry." What a pitiful attempt at an apology. I almost killed her! I had to try anyway, I suppose, even though in my mind, it would do nothing. "I won't even think of doing that again. I'm so sorry. I lost control."

"It happens to all of us." She pulled away to see my face. Hers was red. Ah, now we were all crying; good to know.

I got up, allowing her to rise as well, and collapsed on the couch, face in my hands. A second weight on the sofa told me she was near. I could feel her arms wrap around my shoulders, so I could lay on hers. My hands were pushed out and onto my lap.

We said nothing for a score of minutes, the both of us equally shocked from what had happened moments previous. Sydney almost met death from good will and honest passions, and I, a vampire, had been subdued by the voice and memory of my past life. Awkward.

I smelled urine. So mortal, but not repugnant. When you live without human cares, you get accustomed to overlooking them. Upon asking, Sydney turned a bright red.

"You try keeping your bladder full when your life's being threatened." She got up and went into the bathroom, the only in the apartment. The girl wasn't angry, I could tell, but her ego had been knocked down a level. I stayed where I was.

The click of the shower broke my thoughts. I realized I would be alone for at least twenty minutes. I could leave, disappear form this woman's life and trouble her no more. I wouldn't have to reveal anything. I didn't go.

What held her to me, I wondered then, more than any mortal I had come across? There were paranormal enthusiasts that had tailed me before, itching to see what I could do (though how they knew I was immortal was another matter entirely), but none of them cared for me. No one gave two shits about the individual behind the bleach-white skin. Sydney didn't know what I was, not yet. I hadn't done enough to reveal myself. A voice within my head urged me to run, but I smothered it. I would stay. However, I couldn't tell of my kind tonight. It would take too much of my strength.

I got a rag to clean up the glass that had broken during our exchange. At least I wouldn't have to try and drink the water. In the meantime, Sydney had shut the water off and exited the shower. She walked into the kitchen, where I had stopped. A sleeping outfit had replaced the leather jacket, along with a towel over her shoulders.

"You didn't have to do that." She argued, leaning against the wall next to her.

"I caused it; it's my responsibility."

I turned to the girl, she flinched. That hurt me. Sydney still thought that I would try to harm her. If only she knew how wrong she was.

Instead of giving a response, I walked from the kitchen and reclaimed my seat on the couch. It must've confused her, because she came to join me only after a slight pause.

"There's so much I want to ask you." Sydney admitted. "You just amaze me."

"No. The questions are mine tonight." I crossed my arms. "You wouldn't understand my story, not now."

I thought she would be angry, but she merely nodded.

"I will tell you this, dear Sydney: I _do _care for you; you have my affection. And that will keep you safe." I put a hand on her shoulder; she clutched it with her own, lacing our fingers together with care. A thought occurred to me. "How did you know I was a woman?"

She seemed surprised. I guess it wasn't the kind of question she had been expecting. Without much pause, she answered, "When you were sitting in the café, I saw you. Your face doesn't look masculine at all; I have to tell you that. And your eyes just…seemed too caring for a man, aristocrat clothing or not."

I nodded as if in understanding. However, I couldn't see her reasoning. Too many had mistook me for a man that I had started believing it to be so. Vampires have no attachment to gender, so we could quite literally go both ways if we wanted. What Sydney had caught from my countenance was only icing to a cake that hadn't even been baked yet.

"And when we were walking here, the sway of your hips was _too_ feminine.

I paused to consider this. I walked how I thought I should walk; did I sway?

"Why won't you eat anything, Elodine? You're worrying me." Sydney _worried_ too much.

"So, what are you studying in school?" Evasion. As fun as lounging.

"Elodine." That didn't work. Not with this brazen little waitress.

"All in good time, my love." I assured her, putting a hand on her face, letting my fingers drink the sensation of her skin and cropped hair. She gave me a pout, but I ignored it. _My _questions, dear.

"Is it sales? Or the sciences?" I guessed, my hand on my chin in feigned concentration, "Or do you plan on being a skimpy waitress forever?"

She laughed. "I hope not. That skirt crushes my ass." Sydney leaned back. "Classics. English ones. That's why I'm here. I could've gone to Rome, you know." She sighed, looking to me. "But I wouldn't have found you, would I?"

"I bet you would, actually. I roam around more than you know. And chances are you'd still be the only one to take pity on me."

"So you travel? I guess I was right in my assumption you had no place to go back to."

I nodded.

"I don't really like the subject. English literature, I mean. It was just a steady career that my parents approved. I'm not sure why I'm here; I miss New York."

I pondered this. "I've never been to the New World, as they call it. The rumors I've heard are spectacular, especially of its theatre."

"That's the part I long for the most! The shows here are good, but I don't think anything can compare to those musicals on Broadway." This seemed to strike a chord in the girl; never had she spoken in such an animated way. I wanted to keep this fire burning.

"Really? I should make an effort to go there sometime. It sounds spectacular."

"It is. The whole area is lit up with their colored signs, packed with people, waiting to see the groups perform miracles."

"Miracles?"

"Yes. Brining their characters to life; making the audience believe whatever they say and whatever they do is true! I can't think of anything so-"

She stopped, looking at me. When the girl found me found me smiling, she flushed, embarrassed.

"What's so funny?"

"You speak as if your calling is the theatre. Not your dusty old classics." I remarked.

Her eyes found the floor and stayed there. Something bothered her, and I already knew what it was.

"I wish. I really do. Not enough job security." She touched her chest, where her heart beat strong, "Or confidence."

"I understand. Your parents live through you, it seems."

Sydney stared at me. Her eyes asked her question for her, _how did you know?_

"I'm sorry if I guessed correctly. But it seemed so." I pressed my hand against her arm.

"They want what's best. I know that." There was a pause. A single tear fell down her cheek. "How could they do this to me!"

Her shoulders bobbed with her crying. I did what I could, gripping her and bringing her to sob against my form. She went on for minutes, muttering curses and cries against people I didn't know. Her sorrow was beginning to choke me. So much noise…

"It's alright; I'm here." I told her, clutching her head to my chest, "Relax."

"They've ruined my chance! I'm stuck here because of their damn money! They paid for me to come here."

"Hating them now won't do much for you. Please breathe." She shook with her breaths.

"But I'm miserable in London! Shitty job, snobby classmates, I don't know why I'm here!"

"Fear, my darling."

"What?"

"Don't you realize? You took your parents money to come to London. You didn't have to. You could've tried to make a living performing. But you didn't. You were too afraid you would fail, and without your parents you wouldn't have any financial security."

"I know. I know it's true. I'm scared shitless of failing." She rubbed her nose, sniffled a bit and settled back against me. "So I'm stuck here."

"It doesn't have to be like that." _What? What did I just say?_

Sydney halted, gazing up. "How? How can I get away?"

"You leave this country in a year."

"Two months, actually." She corrected.

"Even better. You will return to your beloved America, graduate and hit the streets, whenever and wherever they'll take you. Unfortunately, you'll have to suffer through schoolwork until then, but if I know anything about theatre, the English classics you loathe can only aid you in your passion."

"I don't have nearly enough confidence to do that. I could never." Sydney protested.

"It's your life to live, my dear. What you do with it is your concern." I stood up, swiveling around to face her. "You live once. Make the best of it; it's shorter than you think."

Her eyes were bloodshot. It was upsetting to see her like this, but I needed to direct her like an immortal should.

"What are you Elodine? What _are_ you?" She looked like a lost child, yielding to any person who spoke of salvation.

I leaned down to her forehead, placing a fluttering kiss on her skin.

"Another day, love. I will tell you all."

She seemed to realize what I meant by my words, seconds after I had said them.

"You're leaving? No; you can stay here!" she cried frantically.

"If I was able, dear Sydney." I stepped back, lamenting the separation, "I will return to you; you have my word. Sooner than you think."

"Please!"

I was already gone. My supernatural speed had carried me so far away that her screams were mere echoes on the wind. I had other concerns, then. The sun would rise all too quickly, and submit to no nocturnal creature, even as mighty as the immortal vampire.

* * *

An update for everyone. :) Enjoy, and review if you thought it was decent. Thanks to all. :D


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